


Brown Eyed Boy

by severaance



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Autistic Reid, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, can be read as a platonic or romantic encounter, derek's a sweetheart but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severaance/pseuds/severaance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one else seemed to be bothered by the staleness in the air, and no one even seemed to notice that every sound, sight, touch, and smell was making Spencer want to cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brown Eyed Boy

**Author's Note:**

> "I myself am opaque, for some reason. Their eyes cannot see me. Yes, that's it: The world is autistic with respect to me." Anne Nesbet

Spencer Reid was having a bad day. A horrible, shitty, terrible, crap-tastic, fuck-it-all day. His skin was on fire, and even though he couldn't feel the time pass, he was sure it's either moving too quick or too slow. Every sound was too sharp, too distinct to the point where it's not, and what's worse was that no one else seems to be affected. No one else seemed to be letting the midday commotion going on in the local police department get in the way of their work. No one else seemed to mind the scraping of old metal chairs on the floor. No one else seemed to be bothered by the staleness in the air, and no one even seemed to notice that every sound, sight, touch, and smell was making Spencer want to cry. 

Except Morgan. His eyes were focused on Spencer like a hawk, and the other man's trained gaze made Spencer uneasy and giddy in the same breath. His stare wasn't predatory, nor judgmental, though; when Spencer's eyes met his, they were soft and filled to the brink with concern and it made everything feel that much easier to bear. Spencer couldn't help but give a small, secret smile to Morgan, who eagerly returned the sentiment. Looking back at the man before him, Spencer took a few deep breaths and thought he might be okay. 

Until one of the detectives at the station comes in and loudly dropped a box of case files on the table in front of Reid and he just fucking booked it. He heard Morgan swearing and then his loud footsteps following him to the men's room, where he collapsed on the floor and started rocking rhythmically. There was a man washing his hands at the sink, gaping wide at Spencer who only whined and dug his nails into his forearms. The man was only there for a second before he rushed to get out of the way when Morgan ran in and barked, "Out!", locking the door behind him.

Morgan dropped to his knees in front of Spencer, talking softly and soothingly. "Reid, hey, hey, it's me. It's Morgan, kid. Reid, can you look at me? Can you show me those eyes?" 

Spencer stilled for a moment, looked at him with wide, watery eyes, before he began rocking faster, arms wrapped around his knees, nails still leaving crescent shaped wounds on his skin. Morgan winced and fought the urge to reach out and smack Spencer's hands away. He took a deep breath and began to speak once again. 

"That's it, that's good. That's so good, Spencer, you're doing great." He reassured Spencer, whose rocking slowed just slightly. Morgan sighed in relief - baby steps. 

"Good, good. Where are you right now? Where's that brain of yours?" He asked, smile apparent in his voice. 

"It's - it's in grey." Spencer said with a whine. Derek nodded slowly. Spencer often used colors to describe his physical feelings and emotions, though they weren't always constant. Sometimes blue was content and calm, sometimes it was sad. Sometimes red was hot, other times it was scared. One thing always stayed the same, though, and that was brown. Brown was fuzzy, butterflies in his stomach trying to escape the confines of his ribs. Brown was warmth flooding his veins. Brown meant home. 

"Okay. Okay, what word is there for grey? Is it hazy? Cloudy? Overwhelmed?" A nod. 

"Alright, good, good job. What's blue? Is blue good today or is it the sad color?" Morgan continued to gently question. 

"Blue is good. The room, this room, smells blue. I like blue today." Spencer said. His rocking slowly but surely had begun to cease as well as the bite of his nails into his flesh. 

"How can we get to blue?" Morgan asked kindly. Spencer nibbled on his bottom lip and attempted to make eye contact. 

"You - you have to hold me. Please." He pleaded. That was all Morgan needed to hear. He put his back against the wall and pulled Spencer into his lap, keeping a firm grip on him. Big touches, Spencer called them. He liked big touches. Not like the ones JJ gave, the gentle brush of fingers on his arm or the soft hugs. Like the rare touches Hotch gave him, a clap on the shoulder or a firm squeeze to the back of his neck. Especially like the ones Morgan gave him. 

Spencer settled in contently against Morgan's hard body. He smelled nice. He smelled green, so he told him that, and Morgan smiled. His teeth were stark white in contrast with his beautiful skin. 

"Not blue." Spencer said simply. "I don't want blue." He felt Morgan's grip go lax on him. 

"No blue? Want me to let go?" Morgan asked calmly. He was a tactile person, always comforting through touch. It broke his heart when Spencer flinched away from his hugs sometimes, but out of all the people he considered himself close to, Spencer let Morgan touch him the most. As much as Morgan wanted to cradle him and soothe him with a tight embrace, he had to respect that sometimes Spencer's body couldn't handle touch. 

"No. Brown." Spencer said, snuggling closer. Morgan smiled in understanding, running his hand up and down Spencer's arm in long, firm strokes. 

Spencer grabbed Morgan's hand, ceasing his actions. "Pet my hair. Like that." He placed it on the top of his head and Morgan happily obliged to his request. 

With each pass of Morgan's hand through Spencer's hair, the latter began to calm more and more until he was completely sated. His eyes were more clear and alert and his breathing was no longer erratic. He still seemed a bit nervous, though it was unlike how it was before. 

"Reid?" Morgan asked, looking down at Spencer who was sucking and chewing on his lip. "Spencer." He said more firmly, causing the boy's eyes to shoot up and look into Morgan's. 

"What do you need, pretty boy?" Morgan asked with a small grin on his face. Spencer noticeably relaxed at the familiar nickname and gave Morgan a smile in response before he blushed deeply and looked away again. 

"Can I have a kiss? My mouth feels weird." 

Spencer wasn't socially inept, just socially different. He knew social customs, what things that didn't harm others were and were not acceptable for strange reasons, what certain gestures meant, what words should and shouldn't be used in certain situations, but he just didn't get them. He knew what kissing meant to most people. It was a romantic action, something you saved for people you liked, romantically or sexually. He just didn't understand why. It was a way to bond with a person you cared for, friend or otherwise. It was soft and nice and sometimes other people's mouths just tasted good. 

Spencer liked boy kisses better than girl kisses. Boys kissed with intent. They crushed their mouths against yours, their teeth nipping and pulling on your lips. They were eager to open their mouths and accept your tongue inside, and they tasted pure and raw. Girl kissed slow and leisurely, gentle brushes of lips and noses against one another. They tasted like Chapstick, sickeningly sweet. 

Spencer liked how girls' lips were soft, though. Sometimes boys had chapped lips that were dry and rough. Morgan's weren't. He was staring at them now, unashamedly. They were plump and pink and they made him feel brown and red at the same time. He watched as Morgan swallowed, his body filling with tension that quickly faded when he looked at Spencer's hopeful eyes. He couldn't help but give the kid a smile and a short nod. Spencer smiled back, wide and toothy and let Morgan give him a chaste but firm kiss, his hand gripping the back of Spencer's head. He gripped his hair, gently tugging it when he pulled back and they both just continued to smile at one another. 

"You ready to go back, Casanova?" Morgan teased and Spencer let out an adorable, genuine laugh that made him feel brown inside, too. 

When they walked out of the bathroom, Spencer's hair and clothes disheveled, his lips red from their shared kiss, Morgan laughed at the the varying expressions that were focused on them. Some looked horrified, some impressed, some angry, others annoyed, and one, a certain petite blonde, happy. They both knew that everyone was thinking the same thing. 

Let them think.

**Author's Note:**

> "I like it that order exists somewhere even if it shatters near me." Elizabeth Moon


End file.
